i got a natural love for nature since a kid,
unusual bond with everything that i can't quite explain,
so last year i remember,
i came out with sharp shears,
cutting faces four way into the cypress tree,
to let the birds have a nest,
and i was just expressing my artistic skills,
by designing my mind into earth,
and i heard the baby bird on the ground,
before cutting into the tree,
the sounds of mutha help me,
barely barely with feathers shaking,
you could hear and see the mutha at the top,
at the top of the tree and i was like,
trying to mimick the sounds,
trying to concentrate and just embody myself,
inside the mutha bird hoping to direct her vision downward,
my powers wasn't strong enough,
i was just in the beginning of my shamanistic journey,
and she flew away going from tree to tree,
in search trying to see her youngin',
it was getting dark plus predators was out,
plus it was colder at around forty degrees last winter,
dropping dramatically by the quarter hours,
i just watched and almost broke down in tears,
cause i felt the concern deeply,
hearing the cries just like those times on the streets,
i knew if i were to pick up the birdie,
myth says my scent were to ward off the mutha,
so i took that chance plus i had an empty basket,
i cut one of my pillows open and pulled the cotton out,
got some straw and all...
little birdie don't die tonight i said,
i said it while recovering little birdie my hand softly,
i could feel the heartbeat speed up then slowly decrease,
gently i put little birdie in the homemade nest,
and watch birdie get snuggly warm wiggling a little,
positioned the nest high where the mutha was,
the time past bye as well as the temperatures,
i called the animal people but they weren't concern,
dayum...so i kept coming back outside every fifteen minutes,
peeking out the blinds of my window,
as the birdie rested finally shutting it's eyes,
so i just took the nest inside my home,
birdie got warm enough but missing food,
i tried to force feed gently part water part dog food,
just a little bit though...
it didn't work and birdie birdie fell asleep,
eternally while in my home in my bedroom,
the last breath exhaled as i sat their on watch,
at least birdie didn't fall prey to the natural predator unfairly justified,
baby birdie i i i couldn't save.

I remember a baby mouse stuck in the cold, I couldn't save. Stuff like that messes my night up.

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oh yeah and i feel you seriously. it was after work a little bit after thanksgiving last year. just like a baby sleeping at night goodnight snugged up. yeah i gotta strong love for nature. thanks for sharing your experience it's like diary to diary speaking cause journal entries like these i don't really share with nobody cause they mindset is like not like mind. glad me and yours are i haven't forgot about you. these are past entries out of like journals i wrote into books my moms gave me like books to write into once she seen my poetry like years ago. i got a book of eulogy poetry too i do and i started that when i no longer wanted to go to funerals of my people...i would just send poetry out instead...i found a way to be presently there as words forever with the people i love and my best friends of souls i never met before. it's the touch of life...and believe it or not everybody can be touched...you can be touched by life and it'll make the humbleness come out of you...that is what i'm doing with "Diary of a Black Man" like if i had one wish on earth it would be to be colorless and just soulful..like see me for who i am and not a black man or gender or color or race just me and you soul to soul if i can reach you heart to heart then feel me feel me world and you can pay me and watch me turn that pay into my censored dream come true and that's giving back to the ones who don't have a voice just like me who wants to be just respected and on the real that's our physical mental emotional soulful and spiritual need to just be respected and watch the world turn a whole leaf if they have the heart to understand a "Diary of a Black Man" just like i understood that birdie last wish was to be warm and safe.